Chapter 3 - THE BOND THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST
Nathaniel didn't explain everything that night.
Instead, he asked whether Emma wanted a ride home.
She hesitated.
Her car was parked behind the lodge.
“I drove.”
“Then I'll walk you to it.”
Emma looked at him.
“You're not going to insist?”
“No.”
“That's refreshing.”
His mouth twitched.
They crossed the parking lot beneath a sky full of stars.
Emma's Honda waited beside a row of expensive SUVs.
Nathaniel studied it.
“Does it run?”
“Most days.”
“Comforting.”
“She's temperamental.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Geraldine.”
Nathaniel looked at her.
Emma shrugged.
“Don't judge.”
He smiled.
And Emma felt that strange warmth again.
At her car, Nathaniel stopped.
“I'd like to speak with you tomorrow.”
Emma folded her arms.
“About what?”
“The bond.”
She swallowed.
“So you felt it too?”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean we're mates?”
Nathaniel was silent for a moment.
“It means something recognized us.”
Emma stared.
“That sounds suspiciously vague.”
“It is.”
She studied him.
“Are you always this mysterious?”
“Only when I don't know the answer.”
That surprised her.
Powerful Alphas rarely admitted uncertainty.
Nathaniel reached into his pocket and offered a business card.
“My direct number.”
Emma took it.
“And if I don't call?”
“Then I won't contact you again.”
She looked up.
“You'd really leave it there?”
“Yes.”
“Even if we're bonded?”
Nathaniel's expression softened.
“A bond isn't permission to make decisions for someone.”
Emma stared at him.
Then smiled.
“Good night, Alpha Mercer.”
“Nathaniel.”
“What?”
“When we're alone, you can call me Nathaniel.”
She nodded.
“Good night, Nathaniel.”
The next morning, Emma woke to twenty-three messages.
Most were from coworkers.
Some were congratulations.
Others were thinly disguised requests for gossip.
Daniel had sent six.
She deleted them without reading.
Then her phone rang.
Blackridge Human Resources.
Emma answered.
“Hello?”
A woman named Patricia spoke.
“Emma, we'd like you to come in early Monday.”
“Why?”
“There have been concerns about your behavior at the ceremony.”
Emma sat upright.
“My behavior?”
“Yes. Your public interaction with Alpha Mercer has created questions about your professional judgment.”
Emma stared at the wall.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she remembered Nathaniel's words.
Tradition isn't a prison sentence.
She took a breath.
“Please send the concerns in writing.”
Patricia hesitated.
“Emma—”
“In writing,” Emma repeated.
Then she ended the call.
Her hands shook.
She looked at Nathaniel's business card on the bedside table.
For a long moment, she simply stared.
May you like
Then she picked up her phone.
And called him.
